RESET
by Bard15
Summary: A new checklist of the impossible awaits the brothers…as the scale of power shifts dangerously out of balance. A S9 WHN story that explores the ramifications of closing the gate of heaven and hell and the fight to restore the balance of power. More detailed summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**RESET**

a/n: this will not doubt soon become AU with the next season but this is the direction I would go….got the idea from something Dean said in the epi, "Hammer of the Gods" about how they (the hunters & the gods) needed to work together so they could get back to "ganking' each other like normal…a "Reset"

**/Supernatural/**

**Summary:**

A new checklist of the impossible awaits the brothers…as the scale of power shifts dangerously out of balance.

Heaven is closed and the angels have fallen, losing their grace and powers to Metatron's betrayal, to become but mere mortals to live out a life that is but a heartbeat to millennium aged creature.

A new war is brewing in hell between Crowley and Abbadon-threatening to spill out on the world as the angel's apocalypse of years before: And one trial stands in the way of closing the gates of hell, cutting off the demons playground on earth; at a cost Dean isn't willing to make—Sam's life.

But can such an imbalance between the two opposing forces be allowed to continue and at what consequence to mankind no matter what path is followed?

So much at stake…so much imbalance. Dean wouldn't mind seeing equally that "the black-eyed sons' of bitches" & "douche-bags with wings" both get locked away…but is the price to high, the consequences, yet to be determined, be to man's benefit or destruction. Would the closing of the gates of heaven and hell help mankind or lead to a whole new set of problems.

And if the choice comes to it, would Dean willingly sacrifice his brother to restore that balance? _Could there be any other path?_

And perhaps most important…lost amidst the struggles of the powerful and mighty…_**what of the souls?**_

**/SUPERNATURAL/**

**Prologue:**

They just sat there for the longest time…seconds, minutes, hours…time meaning nothing as they watched the 'comets'-hundreds…thousands of them, shoot through the sky. It was too much to fathom…to comprehend that all the heavenly host was cast out; that heaven was literally _closed for business._ Dean's mind danced with such a multitudinous of conflicting thoughts, points-counter points; he felt his brain would explode…so much was happening at once…so many choices…yet, .so few choices….

Watching the flare of light burn out as it hit the atmosphere, Dean's mind turned to wonder exactly what was hitting the ground. Angels were landing at Mach 10; _**BUT**_, landing as…what?-so much space junk…a burnt out corpse (and wouldn't that just cause a world-wide panic not seen since the Michael-Lucifer showdown)…a human form….would the angels essence simple find the first human meat suit to inhabit?

And of the angels already here…what had become of Cass when he learned of Metatron's betrayal; Cass, who was already in a dead human host. He dared not dwell on the fact that, as Naomi died for attempting to stop Metatron…had Cass died by the vengeful angels hand as well.

Sam's labored breathing pierced the fog of Dean's thoughts and he looked towards his brother in concern…the trials would kill him…Naomi had said, but she was the bitch that had manipulated Cass all those months…yet, there was something in her shaky tone, in her eyes, that spoke to the truth. Her methods were questionable, but she knew what they had been too blind to see; that Metatron was a lying, manipulative bastard…and they fell for the doe-eyed sob story.

For a brief moment his hatred for the angel lessened…she was doing what they all had been clawing and clamoring to do since the "apocalypse that wasn't"-just trying to hold on, to find some order in the chaos…_to make things right_; bring it back to some semblance of what it was before, what they all knew…what they were comfortable with. Ultimately what right did he have to judge, seeing his team's track record of "doing the right thing" was less than stellar.

Seems that they would forever be suffering some fallout or another from the apocalypse that wasn't…really, the things that fell out of the closet after that the prize fight had been derailed-Eve, the Leviathan's, a heavenly civil war, finding out about the Men of Letters…dragons and golems…the list seemed endless. Dean just shook his head in weariness; Mike and Lucy may be locked away but the consequences lingered…and as they laid one problem to rest another would crawl forth to do battle. It was like the whole universe was waiting to take a number to see how they could make the Winchester's life miserable.

But heaven was closed now…what did that mean exactly, Dean had yet to fathom: felt a little vindictiveness, despite himself, that they, the angels, were getting a taste of their own medicine.

But with his thoughts of the heavenly host his mind turned to the flipside…Hell. The angels wouldn't be plaguing mankind (but by the same token, they would be of little help) because there were still the demons to consider. Hell was still open for business…still using humans as meat puppets; and more importantly, hell was gearing up for a civil war of its own between Crowley and the recently resurrected Knight/Assassin of Hell, Abbadon. Dean knew, neither demon would have a problem bringing that war to the surface.

God, so much to think about…so much still riding on his and Sam's shoulders; wasn't the apocalypse enough? Dean snorted in disgust…because the answer to that was an obvious-"Apparently not".

Dean looked at his dozing?-unconscious…? Little brother and wondered if he would allow the sacrifice of his brother's life…again…for the sake of humanity…but perhaps more importantly-for the sake of some sort of cosmic balance…?

He didn't want to dwell on the thought…he wanted Hell closed with every fiber of his being…but at the cost of Sam's life…? And if they abandoned the quest, would Sam recover…Cass had said the trials were changing his brother in ways even he, an angel, couldn't counter…or comprehend. Would he lose his brother either way…if Sam was destined to die, Dean would see to it his brother's death would not be in vain…they would find some way to finish the trials.

Sighing heavily, Dean ran a hand down his face…but to consider finishing the trials, Dean knew the cost was still immense…Crowley had seen to that. If Dean wasn't so sickened by the senseless and horrific deaths of people he and Sam had already saved, that little piece of him that still remembered Hell, still savored his time as Alistair's pupil, would give kudos to the rather ingenious way Crowley had found to counter the brother's quest to close the gates of hell: reading those horrible novels of their lives…finding people they had already saved. Seeing Sam frantically try to reassure Sarah, knowing that it was in vain as the woman gasped her final breathes…the impotence and anger her felt as he found the hex bag just moments too late.

Dean shook his head and heaved another weary sigh…maybe it was fate, and damn if that just wasn't a kick in the pants to one who had so fought and rallied against fate and destiny; but in reality, those people should have died, would have, but for the arcane, mythical knowledge the brother's so willingly believed an embraced despite twenty-first century disbelief.

He likened it to the "Final Destination" movies…the characters dying gruesome deaths for side-stepping fate and not dying when their number was up. He saw the damage and chaos that wrought when one decided to try to play a game of one-upmanship against Fate and Death; when Cass had saved all those people destined to die on the Titanic…what a cluster-fuck that had turned into. Maybe, as Fate, Crowley was simply balancing the scale that the Winchesters were forever tipping to _**their desires…to their idea of what was just and right and fair in the world.**_

And then it struck him hard, almost taking his breath…did they have the right to do what they had done, planned to do; were they really any better than Lucifer or Michael, playing out a duel to the death without regard to the cost to humanity: or any other being, supernatural or otherwise, that was fighting for its survival…its way of life? They wanted life on their terms, and the rest of the world…demon, angel and human alike be damned for interfering or disagreeing.

Life is a balancing game…in order to recognize evil you need to see that which is good: to know good is to compare it to the depraved. But did the Winchesters know how to truly recognize either…yes, they had definitely seen and experienced more evil than any two souls should ever have to face in a million lifetimes…but even within that evil, there were degrees and circumstance to that evil…did they ever truly see evil for evil's sake. And goodness and purity…compassion and pity…all those things that give humanity its empathy…did he and Sam truly possess such traits or did they see the potential victims, the people they saved as just a trophy to be won in the war…never considering the consequences, either positive or negative, in their meddling.

Dean just shook his head again…to much had transpired…too many new, unanswered questions. As the saying went, "Rome wasn't built in a day" and so this new task set before the brothers would not be solved in anything less than blood, sweat, tears and pain in the days, weeks and months that were sure to follow.

Looking down tenderly at his brother, he thought, at least for one night, he had some answers…could soothe some wounds-tonight he could do what he was best at…take care of his baby brother…


	2. Chapter 2

**Reset, **

**Chapter 2**

a/n: wanted a story to explore the concept of the ramifications to closing heaven and hell to the "_**General Public"**_, so to speak; but they really didn't leave a whole lot of canon characters alive for Sam & Dean to have this debate/conversation with, so I had to come up with something slightly different; But, we will be seeing a lot of old allies and enemies (both dead & alive) as hunters, demons and angels alike work to both restore/take advantage of the imbalance of power. The story is slightly AU as far as some of season eight events and taking some liberties with the Christian & other polytheistic mythologies….cause, hey, its TV land physics….

**/Supernatural/**

Start small…start with what you can control and work your way out; and that's exactly what Dean decided to do, so the first order of business was getting Sam inside and to bed…see if there was anything he could really do for his suffering brother.

It was both a struggle and a slightly comforting position to be in; how many times had they found themselves supporting the other. His brother had definitely lost weight, and with it, some of his muscle mass he had built up…making it both easy as he was of course not as heavy; but hard, as the boy was utterly drained and had much difficulty supporting his weakened frame.

Dean sat heavily on the edge of Sam's bed, running a hand down his tired face as he watched his brother sleep. Though his breathing had become less ragged, Sam's face was still pinched in discomfort, even in his restless sleep.

"What are we gonna do Sammy…" Dean intoned quietly, "this is all one big SNAFU we got here…everything is just so damn out of control..."

Dean shook head, and gave a hoarse, mirthless chuckle, "to think that the apocalypse looks like a walk in the park compared to the cluster-fuck we have now…"

Sam sighed heavily but didn't waken and Dean just gave his brother a pat on the leg and got up from the bed, giving his sleeping brother one more look before crossing the hall to his own room. He changed into sweats and a t-shirt mechanically and crawled into his bed, expecting the events of the last few months to haunt him…surprisingly he fell to sleep, truly exhausted beyond comprehension, nearly as soon as his head hit the pillow.

**/SPN/**

One thing Dean was surprised that he missed living in the "Bat Cave" was the lack of sunshine and chirping birds to wake to in the morning. The bunker had few "windows" to the outside world…being a security issue. Without clocks to tell you the time of day, the passage of time was hard to calculate while in the bunker.

Dean woke slowly…his eyes lazily scanning his room before coming to rest on his alarm clock…his brow raising in surprise at the time, 10:47 am, and how late he had slept. He sat up slowly, yawning widely as he ran a hand down his stubbled face and through his spiked hair. The young hunter sat for a minute, contemplating the previous night's events…deciding that…yes, it really happened…and, yes, their lives were still all kinds of screwed up; 'Gods, just how many times should they be expected to save this miserable little planet!'

Still taking those baby steps, Dean decided his first order of business was to see to his brother and then rustle up breakfast. He needed to call Garth and Kevin…needed to make arrangements to bring them to the bunker…maybe Charlie, too. His mind briefly touched on Cass…wondering if it would be as simple as calling the last cell number they had for the angel…he really had no idea how to find his friend, or even if he was still alive. He even considered trying to get a hold of the kid with the Golem…see if the kid had made any progress re-establishing the MoL's group in Europe; and find out what they knew of the falling angels…what kind of lore they might have on the subject: and really…what the hell could a handful of humans do for the entirety of the suddenly displaced 'host of heaven'…? And a little part of him wondered, 'did he really want too…?'

Dean shuffled out of his room and across the hall to Sam's room. He noted that sometime during the night Sam had rolled over on his side and was now curled up in a ball in the middle of the bed. Walking over to the bed he reached out and gave his brother a little shake, "hey, Sammy, up and at 'em…come on wake up…"

An answering groan from under the pile of blankets caused Dean to smirk, "come on Sam…"

"Go 'way…" Sam grumbled.

"Can't do that…" Dean replied, adding seriously, "need you to wake up…need to know how you're doing…last night was rough…I need to know if you're feeling any better…"

Dean watched as the blankets rose and fell with Sam's heavy sigh and a moment later an arm threw off the blankets and Sam flopped over onto his back and stared owlishly up at his brother.

Dean forced an overly cheerful smile onto his face as he said cheekily, "mornin' sunshine…" then reached out and rested a hand on Sam's forehead.

Sam tried to turn his head away from Dean's hand, but Dean was having none of it an pressed down hard enough that his little brother couldn't dislodge his hand, "get off Dean, I'm fine…"

Dean removed his hand, "don't have a fever…so how ya really feeling…" pinning his baby brother with a pointed look he warned, "and don't tell me your fine…"

Pursing his lips and casting his brother his infamous 'bitch-face', which of course had no effect on the elder Winchester, Sam finally gave a frustrated huff as he slowly took stock of his body, "I'm tired…my head hurts…chest feels kinda tight…"

"But you're breathin' alright…" Dean asked.

Taking in and releasing a deep breath, Sam shrugged, "like I said, chest feels tight but I'm not having any problems breathing…cough seems to be gone for the moment, too…"

Dean nodded, "good, that's good to hear…so how 'bout something to eat…?"

Dean took a step back from the bed as Sam slowly pushed himself up off the bed and swung his legs over the side; watching intently for any sign his kid brother might experience any distress. Sam seemed to sit there for a moment, contemplating the state of his body and health, before giving another heavy breathe, and nodding his head, "I could eat…"

"That's my boy," Dean said with a smile as he wrapping a hand around the back of Sam's neck and gave a gently squeeze.

**/SPN/**

In the kitchen, Sam plopped down in a kitchen chair while Dean got right to work pulling out pots and pans and rummaging through cabinets, looking up and asking, "French toast or eggs…?

Sam just gave his head a little shake and snorted in amusement at his brother's over enthusiasm, finally saying, "eggs…don't think I'm up to something like French toast…"

Dean nodded and went gathered up what he'd need for an egg breakfast, nodding towards the coffee maker he said, "hey, get some coffee started, would ya'…need a high octane jump start this morning…"

Sam nodded and pushed himself up from the chair and went to make the coffee, stopping half way through and pinning the back of his brother's head with a solemn look he questioned hesitantly, "Dean, last night…what exactly happened…?"

For his part, Dean didn't stop his breakfast preparations, but Sam saw the subtle hesitation in his brother's movements to indicate the story would not be a pleasant one, "we'll get to all that later…right now, we're gonna sit down and have breakfast…the jacked up world will still be there when we're done…"

Sam sighed, it was bad…whatever it was; the youngest Winchester wondered if his strange dreams of fireworks and shooting stars had anything to do with what happened the night before.

The brother's quietly went about their tasks and soon they were sitting at the table eating…Dean had gone all out…eggs, bacon, sausage, toast…even cut up fruit; along with milk and juice to go with the coffee.

As they ate, Sam couldn't help but smile to himself….Dean had certainly 'nested' hard since they had moved into the bunker and Sam had to wonder at someone who always had an itch to move on…to never be tied down; to suddenly settle into this almost 'domestic' life at the bunker. To Sam's surprise, Dean had been the first of the two to not only pick a 'permanent' room, but to make it his own. Maybe, his brother wasn't quite the 'bad ass' he wanted everyone to believe…maybe, just maybe, he really did crave all those 'normal' things, like Sam had all his life…a stability there lives had not had since Dean was four years old.

Raising a brow at the thought, Sam wondered if that was it…had he answered his own question. At one time, at what seemed ten lifetimes ago, Dean had normal…had stability; was he finally fighting to reclaim what he had lost as a child, in the only way left to him. They had what they could not count as a permanent base of operations…dare Sam even consider to call it a home; and Dean had chosen a room and…to Sam's amusement at the time, decorated it…even going so far as to put out what few family pictures the boys had. It suddenly struck Sam that he needed to get frames for those pictures…he needed to do that one small thing for his brother…to somehow add to Dean's new found sense of home and stability.

"You having a nice chat in there…" Dean asked with sarcasm.

Startled from is thoughts, Sam looked over sharply at his brother, "Huh…what, sorry, you saying something…?"

"No, not me, geek-boy…" Dean replied, waving his fork in the air. He had been watching his brother for the last few minutes to make sure he was eating and not just moving food around on his plate and was both pleased that Sam seemed to have regained some appetite, but amused at his brother's absent stare…a look he had long associated with his brother's brain being in overdrive…trying to work through a problem or thinking his emo thoughts.

"Just wondering what your over-sized brain had latched onto already this morning…you think any harder and you're eyes will pop out…" Dean snarked.

Sam scowled at his brother before looking down at his plate and scooping up a large bite of eggs, returning the snarky comment with one of his own, "just surprised its edible, is all…."

Dean took the comment for what it was, an evasion tactic. Fine, his his little brother didn't want to share his 'emo' thoughts right now…Dean could wait, he'd had plenty of practice waiting his little brother out while the youngster worked through whatever was bothering him, so kept up the banter, "what, you don't taste the almonds…must not have used enough…"***

Sam just shook his head, glad Dean didn't press him to share his thoughts this morning, "shut up…jerk…"

Snickering, Dean waved his fork towards Sam's plate, "eat yer breakfast, bitch…"

At least for this morning, this breakfast, they would forget about the problems right outside their door…just for this morning they were just two brother's having breakfast.

**/Supernatural/**

a/n: yeah, I know, slow to start, but there is a whole lot to work through…ALL different ways to explore what they writers might be planning for S9.

a/n: anyone remember the name of the kid in the Nazi/Golem episode?


End file.
